They walked toward the back of the massive retail space, bypassing the sleek, minimalist dressing rooms. A heavy steel-and-glass staircase led to the mezzanine level, a sprawling, private lounge suspended above the main floor.
The mezzanine was a masterclass in aggressive luxury. Dark leather sofas, heavy oak tables, and a fully stocked, polished marble bar dominated the space. The lighting here was softer, amber-toned, creating an atmosphere of quiet, lethal privilege.
Diana Lockridge stood near the edge of the glass railing, looking down at the retail floor below.
The venture capitalist wore a stunning, backless emerald-green silk blouse from Zara's collection, tucked into sharp, tailored trousers. She held a crystal glass of sparkling water, her posture radiating an effortless, terrifying authority. To the outside world, she was the apex predator of Wall Street, surveying a new, lucrative investment.
But as Ryan and Zara reached the top of the stairs, Diana turned.
